***
Anatoly sat on te couch in his hotel suite talking into the black, Apple laptop on the table in front of him. Now comfortable in a pair of jeans and barefoot, he drank his scotch under dimmed lights, trying to calm himself from the day’s events and prepare for the evening.
With a platter of pickles in his lap, he slouched over and listened attentively as the men debated the latest issues.
Over the last few months, Anatoly and his men had moved more guns internationally than his father had moved in years. He used all of his contacts, met with as many bosses as possible and constantly pursued the all mighty dollar.
As he promised his father, after the operation in Sochi, quietly he had concreted the Medlov Crime Family at the top of the organized crime food chain. And where at first, many had assumed that he was unable to fully step into his father’s lofty shoes as boss, now only a few questioned his reach and his eagerness.
He was building an impenetrable force of men, who were willing to do the hard work in seedy places of the world where no one wanted to go and willing to do the most unspeakable acts in the name of Vory.
As he sat listening to the men, he went through each of the deals meticulously and went down his notepad of questions, just as he had seen his father do time and again as boss.
Tapping his pen against his knee, he reached over for his cigarette and waved his hand to quiet the men.
“Enough, enough,” he said, taking a drag. The smoke billowed up into a hazy cloud above him. “This is what we will do.” His deep, baritone growl grew deeper. “Have Yuri call the dealer back and tell him that we will cut his percentage. I don’t want him running this deal. It’s too important, and he is less than reliable.”
“Then, who will run it?” one of his men asked as they sat around a small meeting table in front of their computer.
“We will,” Anatoly answered. “We’ll send one of our men with him to facilitate. It’s not rocket science, but it’s starting to cost like it. I want more returns and fewer expenses. It’s our product. So, it’s our way or no way.”
“We’ll choose someone from Memphis,” another man said. “It’s too risky to trust anyone else. This is the last shipment, boss. If we can get rid of it properly, then we don’t have to worry about the guns being traced back to us at any point.”
“Don’t you think that I know that? After all that I did, myself, to get this shipment, I won’t allow anyone to screw it up.” Anatoly put down his paper and pen and pulled the laptop closer to him. “Did you find Donovan?”
“Da, he was holed up in Chicago. We brought him back kicking and screaming. He was in basement of his mother’s church.”
<“We’llSTIFY" height="18" width="0"> “Good. Keep him alive until I get back. I want to see his eyes fade for his deceit,” Anatoly steamed. “He’s cost us millions up there talking to the pigs.”
“Will do, boss.”
“Anything else?” Anatoly asked.
“No,” his men answered collectively.
“Good. Goodnight, gentlemen,” Anatoly said, closing his laptop.
As he rested back on the couch, the background noise of the television in the other room clouded his thoughts along with his men talking among themselves about Gabriel. However, he could still see his sister’s face and his mother’s casket flashing every time that he closed his eyes.
Fortunately, he was now past tears or hurt. Instead, anger had filled his heart, anger at his family for being callous and anger at Gabriel for simply being. Something about his new cousin just rubbed him the wrong way and he intended to find out why.
As he drank the last of the scotch in his crystal tumbler, his cell phone rang. Looking at it, he rolled his eyes. Victoria. Again. He should have never gotten involved with the woman. His father had warned, but as usual, he had ignored him thinking that the old man had gone soft. Now, she was a thorn in his side. He started to answer it and threaten her, but he felt any attention would be too much.
“Vasily,” Anatoly said, hitting IGNORE. “As soon as we get back to the states, get my number changed and get it to everyone except Victoria.”
“Yes, boss,” Vasily answered, standing behind him in the far corner of the room.
Anatoly looked behind him and raised his brow at the man. Vasily was a loyal solider of the Vory, never faltering in his responsibility. A young man, barely thirty, he was nearly as quiet as Anatoly but if possible, more serious and gravely tempered. When needed Vasily had been quick and deadly but also a friend to his boss during times when the young man had no one to confide in.
“Vasily, what do you do when you’re not here?” Anatoly asked, motioning for him to come around the sofa and face him.
“I sleep...eat...workout,” Vasily answered. “And occasionally...get laid.”
Anatoly smiled. “It sounds like I can only help with one of those. Would you like drink?” He offered the scotch.
“Thank you,” he reached across and grabbed the bottle.
“What do you think of Gabriel?” Anatoly asked, motioning for the man to sit down on the couch across from him
Vasily pulled at h slacks and sat down. His large muscular body bulged in the black suit, showing his guns tucked carefully under his jacket and his pants leg.
“I don’t trust him,” he answered in a low, thick accent. He spoke quietly to ensure no one could hear their conversation. “The code should never be compromised.” There was a silent agreement between the two on that fact. Vasily continued, “He has job in society. A day trader. So, he lives double life. A man like that cannot be trusted, because he could also have double allegiance.”
Anatoly was glad that he was not the only one in his camp who felt the unease of Gabriel’s presence, and he was doubly happy not to have leeching yes men around him. Noting the man’s observations, he moved on. “Did you do what I asked?”
“Da. It’s being done now.”
“Good, I want to see his face at the meeting with papa when he discovers it.” He chuckled and toasted the man. “Thieves-in-Law.”
“Thieves-in-Law,” Vasily said, turning the bottle up.
Resting back on the couch, Anatoly grabbed the remote and turned the television on when his pocket began to vibrate. Reaching for his phone, he looked down and smiled. It was Renee.
“I’ve got to take this. Take drink and share with the men, eh,” he said, dismissing Vasily.
“Thanks, boss.”
When he was alone, Anatoly quickly answered before she hung up. “What’s up?” he asked coolly, looking around. His voice lowered.
“Just checking on you,” Renee answered. “And calling to let you know that Lt. Agosto came by here looking for you yesterday.”
Anatoly paused.
“Are you still there?” she asked curiously.
“Da,” he said quickly. “What did he want?”
“Said he was looking for you.”
“Probably nothing. What else is going on?”
“Thought that would be enough.”
They both were silent. Anatoly knew that Renee wasn’t nearly as blind to his affiliations as Royal had been to his father’s. Instead, they both never brought it up. However, before now, Agosto hadn’t shown up in quite some time. His stomach turned in knots at the thought of what the Italian might have up his sleeve.
“And Destiny came by to see you. She brought a copy of the story she did on >Mother Russia to drop by...only she didn’t drop it by the restaurant. She brought it here. Don’t you think that’s odd?”
Anatoly agreed silently but wouldn’t answer her aloud.
“Was the funeral tough?” Renee finally asked to change the subject. His silence had spoken volumes for her.
“No. It was just a funeral,” he said, doodling on the paper as he talked. “My family is a bunch of idiots.”
Renee laughed before she could catch herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh but so is everyone else’s,” she replied. “You ought to meet my folks.
”
“Can’t be worse than mine.”
“Yes, they are,” she confirmed.
“I’ve never seen your family. They don’t come up to Memphis to visit you.”
“Well, we might fix that one of these days. Then you’ll see that you’re not alone. My drunk uncle, my crazy granny and my Vietnam daddy make a hell of a combination.”
It was odd, but Anatoly was calmed by Renee’s voice. She was so simple and so normal – two things that were far from his reach. Just knowing that she had thought enough to call and check on him made him feel better. His tough exterior was nearly broken until he realized how her charms were working on him. He quickly clamed up.
“Well, I have to go,” he said, hearing the men in the other room. “But thanks for calling. I’ll check in on you tomorrow.” He stuttered. “And don’t worry about Agosto. Like I said, I’m sure that it’s nothing.”
“Okay,” Renee did not believe him but chose not to push it. “Bye.”
He hung up without any more pleasantries. Lighting another cigarette, he digested their moment like food for his soul. Whether she knew it or not, he needed that. He needed to know that there was normalcy in at least one place in his life, and he didn’t have to fake who he was to get it, like his father was forced to do at the onset of his relationship with Royal.
Then, there it was again. The thought of a relationship with Renee. He shook it off. Now was not the time to analyze himself or whatever was going on between him and his shop girl. It was almost time for his meeting with his father and Gabriel.
Chapter Five
Gabriel and his men stood in the elevator patiently awaiting its arrival to the penthouse of the hotel and staring blankly into the reflection of themselves in the mirrors of the d panel. It had taken a near act of God to find out where the Medlov’s were staying and even a greater act of God to get through security downstairs.
Upon arrival, they were stripped of their guns, checked for weapons, bugs, poison and razors out in the rain behind the hotel by a large group of armed bodyguards. Then, they were ushered inside of the building after their pat downs and made to wait in the kitchen hallway among crates and boxes in the dimly lit corner as plates clanged and servers moved about quickly with meals and beverages. In silence, they waited and were watched, feeling as though at any moment they would be lined up and executed if one thing did not check out.
After many minutes passed, they were sent up, and although they all were frustrated by the ordeal, they were all happy that they had survived. One would have thought that they were meeting with a national dignitary not a crime boss, but as many knew, to meet a Medlov was the closest any of them would ever get to meeting pseudo-royalty.
As the elevator buzzed, the doors opened to another large group of well-dressed, heavily armed men. Gabriel shook his head and gave a leisurely smile before he opened his jacket to let them search him again.
“It’s amazing that you all ever get anything done with all the searching that you do,” he said as a man patted down his leg. “Easy,” he jerked away. “That’s not a gun.”
The man looked over at door and nodded for Gabriel to gain access to the boss. He was escorted inside, but his men were not allowed to proceed. Instead, they were ordered to wait, and he alone was led to a sitting room that gave a beautiful view of downtown Moscow.
In a different world than the one outside, Dmitry and Anatoly were sitting across from each other talking and having a drink in the calm of a very luxurious room decorated in fine linens and upholstery, bejeweled with priceless art and classic lamps.
The men looked over at Gabriel with curious eyes, accessing him, watching him, making him feel like he was the elephant in the room.
He cracked a smile, pushed past the discomfort and pulled his balled up fists from his pockets.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Gabriel said as the butler walked up and took his jacket.
“Good evening,” Dmitry said, placing his glass carefully on the end table. With his legs crossed and his back towards the view of windows, he extended his large arm and pointed at the seat near Anatoly. “Have a seat,” he ordered in a deep, menacing voice. His eyes watched Gabriel as he made his way across the room.
Anatoly did not bother to speak. Instead, he finished his drink in one gulp and stood up, wanting to be as far as possible from the man who claimed to be his cousin. He made his way over to the window and leaned against the table with a sneer on his remarkably young face.
“You’re on time,” Dmitry noted, looking at his watcheak
“I was forewarned,” Gabriel replied, taking his seat.
He looked around, tried to make sure no one was behind him. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of his mortality now that he was in the room with two of the world’s most ruthless killers.
“We don’t like small talk. What do you want from us?” Anatoly asked, rolling his eyes.
Gabriel could see that the only thing keeping the young man civil was his father’s hidden grip. He could feel the repression from across the room. It was as if Dmitry was standing behind his son with hands on his shoulders cooling his hot heels, but in fact, the man controlled the environment from afar. Dmitry sat relaxed in his chair, dressed in a new suit and visibly intrigued by Gabriel’s presence.
“I’ve made a name for myself now. And I felt like it was time to introduce myself. I’ve been waiting in the wings long enough, gentlemen. Imagine growing up your whole life knowing that you had a family that you had been kept from just because,” Gabriel said, looking at Anatoly.
“Now with sob stories...”Anatoly gaffed.
“We are only recently accustomed to sympathy, my boy. Your story might be lost on us,” Dmitry said, wanting the man to skip the theatrics.
“My father was a methodical man,” Gabriel explained. “I’m sure he had some reason for keeping me away. Whatever reason it was, it wasn’t my fault or my choice.”
“Your father was a raving lunatic,” Anatoly interrupted. “He had to be put down like mad dog.”
Dmitry looked over at his chair at his son but did not admonish him. Instead, he turned and smiled at Gabriel. In a gentle manner, he lifted his long hands and put his fingers together. “As you were saying,” he urged.
“He kept me out of the way for a long time,” Gabriel continued without looking at Anatoly. He locked eyes with his uncle. “He was a good father most of the time, although very absent. He took very good care of me from a far financially. After college, I wanted to get into the business. It took a lot of persuasion and even a few hundred thousand dollars of bribe money. That’s when he started to give me a little work. It was tough, but once I proved myself, I started to pull together my own men, and he left a portion of his New York business to me when he came to Memphis.”
“That’s a lot to sum up in a few sentences,” Anatoly said unconvinced. “That still tells us nothing about you.”
“What would you like to know?” Gabriel asked, opened to the discussion and the confrontation looming between him and the young boss.
“Any kids? Wife? Other family? How distant was Ivan? Why? What kind of work did he throw your way? Why did he hide you? I could go on.” Anatoly ran his hand down the windowsill and lifted it to look at the dirt. “You call this a suite, papa? This place is filthy.”
Dmitry didn’t bother to respond to his son. He kept his eyes on Gabriel. His gentle manner was slowly changing. His bright blue eyes narrowed. Like a predator, he locked on to Gabriel’s every cryptic word as they fumbled out of the man’s mouth. He was looking for just one untruth, because while he and his men dealt in secrecy and guns, they did not deal in lies.
“Let’s do one something first,” Dmitry said, motioning at the door.
An older man with a black bag appeared from the hall. He was short and balding, dressed in a three-piece black suit and limping slightly. Slowly, he walked over to the table beside Gabriel and placed his bag down. Then reaching inside the leather satchel, he pulle
d out a small vial and separated it to reveal a long, slender white object.
“He’s going to swab your mouth. Open wide,” Dmitry said, uncrossing his legs. “Then you can continue with your story.”
All eyes were on the doctor as the old man approached Gabriel with a buccal swab in his shaking, glove-covered hands. Lifting his head, Gabriel opened his mouth obediently, and the man slipped his thumb inside his jaw and clenched it with his index finger to pull it away from his teeth.
Swabbing the inside of his jaw, the man looked Gabriel in his eyes with a unreadable frown then pulled the swab out and placed it inside of the container. Pulling his gloves off his hands, he dropped them inside of the garbage can beside the table and left as quietly as he had come.
Anatoly Medlov: Complete Reign Page 6
